Eyes Open
by HeyThereDelilah2018
Summary: I feel the judgement, the sympathy. I hate it. My mentor knows I'm going to die, my family does, too. I mean, how could a blind girl win the Hunger Games? It's all just a matter of who goes down with me, now. I just hope Grover, my sweet District Partner, makes it out okay. I hope he learns not to let me drag him down.


**Here is my newest story. Um...don't worry, things aren't moving as fast as this chapter may make it seem. More is explained in the next chapters, which I'm hoping will be this long. Maybe not. I will be updating often over Spring Break. Hopefully you like it and I'd love to hear from you in a review! Thank you so much for reading!**

**Chapter One**

I remember seeing at one point in my life. I was really little. Like, really little. I remember laying there in bed, being so sick I couldn't stand up without puking. I was drenched in a cold sweat and my mother left to find the old woman who ran the apothecary shop. She would help us, hopefully.

And when my mother, with her lovely blue eyes filled with concern, ran into the room crying, I knew something was wrong. The older woman-greying hair and frail body-looked over me, did some minor tests. The two women conversed for a moment. I remember seeing my mother suddenly burst into tears, crying and saying she didn't believe it. That there was something the older woman could do. The woman just shook her head and said that she needed to just be with me for that moment before leaving.

I was confused, being that young. What did she mean, that moment? It wasn't until my father came flat and told me I would most likely die that it truly sunk in for me. I clung to my mother as tightly as I possibly could, sniffling. I couldn't die! I just couldn't!

And guess what? I didn't die. I do remember that. I remember waking up one morning and asking my mother why it was all dark in the room. She told me the sun was shining through. I said it wasn't. That was when I first lost my eyesight, and man if I'd known, then I would've spent every last moment taking in everything I could. Just observing anything and everything. Because I would never be able to see again.

I beat a sickness a lot of people died from, I was a survivor like few people here. But it had come with a cost. For some people, it's the movement of a finger or arm or nose. But for me, it was my sense of sight. I would rather be paralyzed than blind.

I can't see anything, at all. Not even shadows like some people can, no sense of light. Just, darkness. I guess it's a good thing I was never afraid of the dark.

I'm seventeen now, and still strong. Sure, my parents treat me like a little kid still, like I'm fragile and could break. No, scratch that, my mother does. My father likes to not help me at all, nothing. He thinks I can figure everything out on my own. I guess I could, but it would take me a bit to not cut my finger off while cooking a measly dinner.

Most people care about what they look like, on Reaping day. I honestly don't care about my appearance. But my best friend cares a lot. I'm sitting in my room. Suddenly, a knock sharply fills the room. "Oh, hello, Linder! Rosewood is in her room, Dear," I hear my mother say. I cringe as the word fills the empty air. Rosewood, my horrid, horrid name. I get it, it's a type of tree, but really?

And suddenly the door creaks open, and I snap my head towards the sound. "Hey, does this dress make me look okay?" A familiar voice asks.

I shake my head as a grin appears on my face. "Of course, Lin. You need compliments from a blind girl. How desperate," I reply with a loud laugh. I feel someone shove me and another laugh erupts in the room. "Anyway, you here to doll me up again?"

"Why else would I be here, Rosie?" Linder asks with a laugh. A large piece of soft material hits my face. Silk. "Get it on. Now," Linder laughs, shaking her head as I scream underneath the material.

I roll my eyes and stand up from the small bed, shedding my work clothing. I quickly get on the dress, and I can feel it hugging areas around my waist and upper body. It feels cool and soft against my skin, almost like it's melting right into my flesh.

"Oh, you look nice! The dress is all red, like a cherry red, Rosie. And it really brings out your curves. And you look stunning with the way your pale skin and freckles contrast with the bright colors of the dress. Oh, I sound like someone from the Capitol but I just really wish you could see it! You look like you're twenty. Seriously, Rosie, I have a hot best friend," Linder explains for me once more. I roll my eyes, unbelieving as I try to picture the way I look. I feel a liquid touching my lips and instantly pull back.

"Come on! It's berry juice, to substitute for lipstick we don't own. It'll make your lips bright red to match that outfit of yours. Oh, and I think your pale blue eyes go well with this."

"You say that about everything, Linder. My eyes don't go with anything. They're a stark contrast and I hate when I feel everyone staring at me because of them," I quickly reply, crossing my arms over my chest as she begins on my hair. I can feel her brushing through it gently, then pulling it back into some intricate hairdo.

"They look lovely. They make you look innocent, they really do, Rosie-Doo. People stare at you because you look stunning. Seriously. I look like some old guy with a beard full of dirt compared to you," Linder replies, and I can almost guess that she's stifling a laugh. I let out a giggle at the comparison and finally just let out a full laugh.

"Hey, Rosie! Keep it down! I'm trying to watch the show! I never get to see it!" A younger voice shouts from another room. Oak. I laugh a bit quieter and close my eyes in sheer amusement. Oak had always been obsessed with the shows the Capitol puts on. The bloodiest moments in Hunger Games history, most surprising win, most violent ending, and so forth. I know this because he will sit there and narrate them for me.

Oak is Linder's younger brother, about eleven years old. From what I've been told he looks almost exactly like her. Black hair, freckles, tan skin, bright emerald-green eyes. I have only seen Oak as a baby, so I have never really seen him before.

"Oh, he's watching the bloodiest finale's. That's disgusting!" Linder protests in a whiny tone of voice. The sound resonates around the walls of the room and I can hear another warning from Oak. "Come on, Gross Kid! We'll all be late for the Reaping!"

I feel Linder grab my hand and I quickly stand up. I brush off the grip she has, knowing the way to the Square by heart. I feel a hug from both of my parents and then the three of us are off. My parents will be there later.

Linder and Oak are practically family. Their parents were killed by the Peacekeepers for excessive poaching, and then they live on their own. However, they're almost always at our house anyway. I may as well just call them brother and sister.

"Hi, Rosewood."

"Hey, you ready for the Reaping, Rosie?"

"Linder! Oh my gosh, you all look great!"

"Oak! Come over here!"

All of these voices resonate around my brain, reverberating like a gong. I don't know who's talking at all, there's too many voices in the Square and I hate it. That's when Linder puts a tentative hand on my left shoulder and I keep walking in a straight line. Linder stops, so I halt to. We must be where we're supposed to be.

I seriously wonder what the Square looks like. Has it changed? What about the people? Linder says my parents have peppered hair now, but I can't picture them like that. I can't picture Oak at all. I can barely picture myself. It annoys me how I have to hear the voice multiple times for me to put a face to them. I have to rely on sound when it comes to recognizing people. And some people don't have the patience for that, such as my father.

I hear a shrill voice shout over the crowd, silencing them. I hear a deeper voice tell the history of Panem and the Hunger Games. The same thing I'd been listening to for years. I picture the escort, Marlet, exactly how I did when I was a lot younger. That last year she had long, waist length neon green straight hair. Her eyes were yellow and her skin was a pale icy blue. Her outfit was a striped number with green, yellow, and blue among it. I still picture her like that. I don't know what she looks like now.

"Let's start with the boys this year!" Marlet trills. I hear a rustle of papers as the crowd goes silent. She does this every year, seemingly draws it out. And then I hear it. "Grover Lockwood!"

"Sixteen. Dark brunette hair, grey eyes. I think we know his sister. Looks strong. A real contender," Linder whispers in my ear. She always does this, so I know a bit about the appearance of the tribute chosen.

I hear another rustle of papers. Linder sucks in a breath from beside me. "Rosewood Ashburrow!" Another gasp from Linder.

"Seventeen, blind, the bravest, strongest girl I know," Linder breathes. She's talking about me. I was chosen. I hold my head high and Linder whispers, "Just walk straight. There are stairs and a railing on the left."

I nod in thanks and nervously creep through the imposing darkness. Something touches my foot. Must be a stair. I take a step up and reach out to my left. Yes, metal touches my palm. I continue tentatively up the steps until a strong, calloused hand helps me walk a flat surface. Must have been Grover.

"Congratulations to the new District Seven tributes!" Marlet squeals in an excited tone.

Oh no, Marlet, I'm not excited at all. Don't congratulate me. I was escorted roughly towards where I would assume to be the Justice Building. I mean, I'd know from both Linder and past Reapings that it is where tributes must go. As soon as the person releases my arm from their firm grip, someone else shouts in worry.

"Rosewood!" That was my mother. I feel warm, shaky hands clutch the back of my dress in a hug, feel a wetness growing on my shoulder. I hear the soft sobs of my mother. I don't bother saying a word to her, it's not needed. I don't want to say goodbye, I just don't think I can. "I...I've wanted to watch you grow up. Live your life, meet a special boy. Now it won't ever happen!" She sobs, not letting go of me.

"Mom...it'll happen. I'll try. I really will," I tell her with a shaky voice, trying to hold my tears in. I can feel the wet crystals build up in my eyes, and I try to build a wall so they don't slip.

"How can you win if you can't even see your own hand?" A familiar voice mutters. My father.

"How could you say that about our daughter?!" My mother shrieks, obviously crying still. Her grip on me is released and I almost long to be back in my mother's comforting arms.

"No, he's right. I'm sorry I couldn't be more than I am," I whisper. And at that moment, before they could have a chance to reply, are whisked away by people, Peacekeepers. I can tell from the voices protesting their leaving, and stronger voices urging them to leave. Then it all goes silent.

I stand in deafening silence, unsure of if there was a place to sit in this room or not. And I'm surprised when a voice suddenly sounds. "Don't you dare even think about crying, Rose," The voice, suddenly stern, states.

Linder. I suck in a deep breath and once more try to build up my defensive walls. She sounds really angry. "I'm not crying, Linder," I protest, my wavering voice growing weaker.

"Yes, you are. You're being weak. Don't let anyone know about your blindness. Nobody. Not your mentor, not Caesar, not any tributes, and certainly not Grover. You hear me?" Linder snaps at me, acid in her tone. She really means it. "I can't lose another member of my family, Oak can't either. You better come back or our insanity is on your head."

I nod, and suddenly I'm enveloped in a strong and meaningful hug. "You are the bravest person I know. Don't let them bring you down. Don't focus on what you can't see, but what you hear, what you feel. You need to rely on your instincts in there, Rosie-Doo," She whispers. And suddenly, her embrace is gone and when I call out to her she doesn't respond. She's out of the room and out of my life.

"Linder! Don't leave...," I whimper, dropping to my knees. The impact stings, it must've been a wood floor. But I don't care. I wrap my arms around my knees and pull my legs tightly to my chest. I just let out heaves and heaves of sobs. They rack my body, causing it to shake. The sounds reverberate around the room, but nobody comes to talk to me. I mean, I don't think so. Nobody says anything to me.

And then I feel a strong hand grip my arms, hauling me to my feet. The person guides me towards well...darkness. I rely solely on trust here, and then I hear the crowds. Some are screaming, I hear a bit of cries. I hear cheering and a bunch of other acts of emotion. And then the sound stops.

"Wow...this is amazing," A strong and deep voice mutters beside me. I jump slightly, not expecting someone to be that close, considering the grip had weakened on my arm and completely diminished. "Are you okay, Rosewood?"

"I'm fine...I'm fine. It's Rosie," I reply, my voice sounding quite shaken. I realize this must be Grover talking to me. He was the only person I could think of. We must be on the train. I miss Linder explaining my surroundings to me, describing who's talking to me if it's important. I never realized how important that would be.

"Well, sit down, you two!" The shrill voice of Marlet calls. I feel movement beside me, the rush of air as someone hurries away. Grover stepped over to wherever Marlet was. I pause for a moment, how was I supposed to keep this a secret?! "Well, Rosewood, are you going to sit down or not?"

A voice. I follow where Marlet's voice came from and my thigh hits something hard yet cool under my touch. "Did you just run into the table?" Grover asks me, peculiar sound in his tone of voice.

"No...I don't think so anyway."

Someone grabs my left wrist and hauls me to who knows where. I recognize the touch as Grover's, from the way he'd helped me up the stage steps. I hear a door close and someone grabs both of my shoulders. "You're the town blind girl."

Well, way to be blunt about it. I could lie. I could play it off easily, as a joke. I knew I'd run into the table...right? No. I was a horrible liar. "Grover...yes. But...please don't tell anyone. I can't even see shadows. It's bad. I don't want our mentors or anyone from the Capitol to know. Nobody. Please?" I plead, biting my lower lip with my teeth.

It was silent in the room. The hands slide off of my shoulders and then there's a sigh. It sounds exasperated. "I can't keep it from the mentors! The others don't have to know. But they do," Grover protests.

"What can't you keep from the mentors?" An unfamiliar, sharp voice asks. They were prodding into the conversation, but they seemed to think they had authority. It must be one of the mentors, then. It sounded like a male voice, but I can't be sure about it.

I felt someone grab my left hand with their strong, callused hand. They squeezed my hand once, in reassurance. I'm almost positive now that it was Grover. He wanted me to tell them that I will die in the Bloodbath. No doubt about it. "I'm the clumsiest person in the district, no doubt about it, is all," I state. Suddenly a rush of cool air hits my hand and the grip is released. He's disappointed. Technically, I am very clumsy due to my eyesight...or, loss of eyesight.

"Yes, well, we'll work on that. I'm Rupert. Johanna and Marlet wanted me to tell you two that the Reapings are on," The unfamiliar voice says. Rupert. The winner of the fifty-first Hunger Games, he won at eighteen years old. He strangled his District Partner, Oak and Linder had described it in horrid detail for me.

I feel the hand in my own again, and follow as Grover leads me through the halls once more. I feel them stop a bit too late, and nearly run right into Grover's back. "You were right about being clumsy," Rupert states in a low mutter.

"Why are you two holding hands? Are you two dating or something?" A cold voice snaps. An unfamiliar voice. Before I can even open my mouth, Grover was already talking.

"Something like that." What?! Are you kidding?! I feel the tug of my arm as Grover sits down on something, and then I'm sitting in someone's lap. Grover. I'm about to hop up when he wraps his arms around my abdomen and whispers in my ear, "Now I can help you without it seeming suspicious. Okay?"

I nod ever so slightly and smile. He was so kind! Sure, this whole 'dating' thing would be slightly awkward for me, and it'd only make things more complicated. But now I have a chance at coming close to winning. Right? Would he help me in the arena, is that what he meant to say?

I hear voices, and suddenly there's Caesar Flickerman's voice filling the room. The Reapings. My family would all be sitting together, most likely watching it. Or eating dinner. Only it would be in silence. Linder and Oak would have no need to relay everything that's on the screen, because I was not there. I bit my lower lip softly as the thought truly sunk in. How would I know competition? Did Grover mean he'd help with that, too? Or are my expectations just way too high?

"District One girl. Blond, completely attractive, seems rather unintelligent," Grover whispers in my left ear. I can feel his breath on my neck, and it makes me shudder. I can't help it. Unintelligent. I seem to hear that every year about District One. "The boy. Light brown hair, normal Career. Very confident seeming." Of course. If he were a Career, then he will be confident, even arrogant.

"District Two, both seem lethal. The boy is huge. Literally, huge. The girl is small and seems insane," Grover whispers. It continues on like this, him saying his opinions in my ear about each tribute. When he gets to ours, I can't help but giggle.

"The boy. Amazingly attractive, a real contender. Charming and dashing," He whispers, and I can almost feel the grin he most likely has on his face. I begin giggling but blush bright red as he gets to me. "The girl. Straight black hair. Pale blue eyes. Hot, and I mean hot. Clumsy. I think my sister knows her and her sister."

Really? Is that what he thought of me, from the Reapings? Did he really think I was attractive? Maybe he was just playing around, I wouldn't put it past Grover.

And then comes his voice. A twelve-year-old girl from District Eleven. I almost want to sob, because I'm not the only one with little chance of surviving the first day. This girl, so much younger than me, will probably die that first battle, too. And then someone volunteers for her sister in Twelve. How insane?! Linder would have never thought of doing that for me, because we know it's most likely a death sentence. But that girl has courage, and I respect that.

"So, I'll be mentoring Grover, and Johanna will mentor Rosewood," Rupert's voice says to the silent room. I cringe as they say my real name, and Grover seems to chuckle at my response. I feel someone messing with my hair, and then suddenly the black wisps-I remember my hair being raven black-are around my shoulders and down my back. "We'll be in the Capitol later tonight."

"You guys can't be that close. It'll get you both killed. It does you two no good," That cold voice says again. Johanna. However, the grip Grover has on me just tightens, and I feel a chin rest lightly on my shoulder.

"Not happening, Johanna," Grover chuckles. He's really going to go through with this, isn't he? I just met him, and already he's willing to do this for me.

And then suddenly there's nothing underneath me.

Chapter Two

Grover was carrying me. I feel my body up against his chest, and heat rushes to my cheeks quickly. I hear laughter from the room, a cry of ' aw' from no doubt Marlet, and a groan probably from Johanna. Grover continues walking, and then I hear a door shut. I'm laid on a soft surface, and gripping it, I realize it's a bed.

"Thank you, I owe you," I whisper in a soft voice. "I don't like this. Back home, I had a sense of almost every place, because I'd seen it before I got sick. But here...it's unfamiliar. I don't like not knowing," I add in a quieter whisper. It's silent, for a long time actually. When I'm beginning to think I've said the wrong thing, something warm...lips are pressed softly on mine. My eyes widen in surprise, and then close gently.

Grover is kissing me. And I'm not doing anything to stop it. My hand reaches up and tentatively rests on his cheek, just softly. I feel a hand at the back of my neck with a burning touch. I've heard Linder describe it as sparks flying. I can't really see it that way. It's more...like floating.

And then he pulls away, but our hands don't move at all. My breathing is strange and my heart is just palpitating quickly, and my cheeks feel hot. "What was that f...," I begin in a soft voice, wavering just slightly.

"I've never done that. It was right there, and you...I can't die without doing that. Really," He whispers. And suddenly I understand. Dying without ever having a first kiss would be terrifying. I haven't had one before Grover, either. And I'm not the only one facing death. This amazingly kind boy is, too. Odds are stacked against us so crushingly so, that anyone would do that. Anyone.

I feel the weight on the bed shift, and realize he's standing up to leave. My hand reaches out and I think I'm grabbing his wrist. "Please don't leave?" I whisper, in an almost questioning tone. My soft grip releases and I lay back on the bed, not bothering to take off my Reaping clothes. I feel weight beside me, and the as I lay on my side, an arm wraps around my waist. I close my eyes and rest my head on his chest. "You'll win, Grover. You deserve it," I whisper.

"Shh. Let's just forget all about that for now. We're just friends helping each other out. Okay?" He whispers, and I nod.

****And for once, I'll believe somebody.


End file.
